


(if you knew) the damage that I did

by riverdalenerdlol



Series: glitter [1]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Betty and Archie are best friends, Betty is a United States Army vet, Character Death, Chemical Hearts-inspired, F/M, Franklin is a sweetheart, Hurt/Comfort, It's Chemical Hearts-esque, Jughead owns the Riverdale Register, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Referenced Smut, United States Army - Freeform, Veronica and Archie dated in high school but she eventually married Reggie and had a kid with him, and a Purple Heart, idk about that yet, if you like CH you'll probably like this, post-military au, so are Betty and Veronica, this is honestly the most depressing fic I've written, this is quite the sad fic, this might have a sequel, with a traumatic past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:34:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26074252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riverdalenerdlol/pseuds/riverdalenerdlol
Summary: “Are you going to keep asking me redundant questions about my resume?” Betty snapped.Jughead shut his mouth, reviewing all of the other items on the sheet of paper.He reached one line and Betty watched his eyes dart over the words in front of him a few times before he looked up in awe. She knew exactly what he was reading and she hoped that he wouldn’t say the words.“Military Order of the Purple Heart,” he said.Images flashed through her head in rapid succession.Red hair."We’re going down. I repeat, we’re going down."Impact.Trying and failing to move.Then nothing.Waking up in a hospital.“Elizabeth?” Jughead asked cautiously. Betty snapped out of her trance. “Are you okay? You look a little pale.”“Fine,” she said shortly, clearing her throat. “Yes, I have the Purple Heart.”8TH BFFAs - NOMINEE: ONESHOT ANGST/HURT-COMFORT and UNDER THE RADAR
Relationships: Betty Cooper & Archie Andrews, Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones, Veronica Lodge/Archie Andrews (minor), Veronica Lodge/Reggie Mantle (minor)
Series: glitter [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1897456
Comments: 14
Kudos: 74
Collections: 8th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees





	(if you knew) the damage that I did

**Author's Note:**

  * For [likeromeoandjuliet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeromeoandjuliet/gifts).



> You've seen the tags by now, so you should note the character death and all that stuff. 
> 
> Chemical Hearts and Grace Town were a huge inspiration for the plot and for Betty's character in this fic and @like-romeoandjuliet-love gave me the idea where I could use some OCH themes, so this fic is for her. 
> 
> I do not own any of these characters.

**“See grief it’s just like glitter**

**It’s hard to brush away**

**Bright light and it still shimmers**

**Like it was yesterday**

**And it falls like confetti**

**All of the memories explode like a hand grenade**

**And it’s sweet and it’s bitter**

**Grief it’s like glitter**

**Oh what a mess it makes**

**What a mess it makes”**

**\---**

“Listen, Betty. You can’t just sit around the penthouse and watch cartoons with Franklin for the rest of your life.” 

“What can I say? They’re therapeutic.” 

“And your therapist isn’t?” 

“She’s judgy.” 

“She’s trying to help you,” Veronica countered. 

“I don’t _need_ therapy. I need my life back.” 

“Hate to be the bearer of bad news but what happened isn’t reversible, Betty. You can’t go back to the Army because of your pr--” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Betty droned. “Thanks for rubbing it in there, Ron.” 

“That’s not what I was trying to do, B.” 

“You know what, I’ll go interview with this dude but when I don’t get the job don’t get all up my ass about it.” 

“I’m proud of you for being open to _trying,_ Betty,” Veronica told her, holding her best friend’s hand. “It’s been six months, and it’s been a hard six months - we both know that. I care about you, okay? And Reggie and I want you to get out of this rut of yours.” 

“How is it a rut when I enjoy cartoons with Franklin, V? I was having the time of my life with your son.” 

“Go get the job, Betty. Stop stalling.” 

“Me? Never. How dare you insinuate that I’m stalling,” she replied. “If the Army taught me anything it’s that you do things with efficiency and dignity.” 

“Then go and get the job then. Efficiently and with dignity.” 

“Maybe I will,” Betty challenged, opening the door and getting out carefully. Betty grabbed her metal cane that she hated with all of her heart and turned towards the building in front of her, shutting Veronica’s passenger door. Just as she was about to look behind her at her best friend, Veronica sped off and left her. 

With a huff, Betty began walking over to the door of the _Riverdale Register_ , using her cane for support. Opening the glass door, a bell rang. 

She took in the same smell the paper’s office had back before she left for college and Army ROTC. Betty still couldn’t quite differentiate the exact aroma, but it smelled mostly like printer paper, books, and coffee like it always had, even when her parents owned it. 

The office was nearly empty except for a woman with pink hair and wearing earphones that Betty assumed were soundproof, as she had not even glanced in her direction. 

From a back room appeared a tall, lanky man with dark hair and an unusually cut charcoal beanie on his head. When the man spotted her, he stopped in his tracks and put down whatever it was he had been working on. 

His eyes were a clear blue that she could see from her spot in the doorway. They were striking yet soothing, and they made her curious. His features were pleasing to the eye

“Welcome to the _Register,_ how can I help you?” the man asked. 

“I’m Elizabeth Cooper. I’m here for the job interview. I’m also a friend of Veronica Lodge-Mantle.” 

“Of course, of course, anything for a friend of Veronica,” the man replied. “I have an editor position open at the moment, if you’d like to apply.” 

“Sure,” Betty replied, following the man over to his desk - the one that used to belong to her mother. 

“I’d like to talk to you a bit before I give you the application, if you don’t mind?” 

“Fine,” she said, trying not to sound completely annoyed. Betty lowered herself into one of the chairs in front of his desk with the help of her cane. “Don’t mind this piece of junk.” 

“So… Elizabeth, was it?” 

“Cooper. Yes.” 

“Do you have a resume I could look at or something?” 

Betty pulled out the sheet of paper that Veronica insisted she print before leaving the house and handed it to him. 

“My name’s Jughead, by the way. I’m the owner and operator of the _Riverdale Register_ now.” 

“Jughead?” 

“Yes.” 

“Really?” 

_“Yes.”_

  
“Alright then.” 

“It says here… Captain in the United States Army?” 

“I did six years,” Betty stated. 

“You’re retired now?” 

“Honorably discharged after a deployment,” she corrected shortly. “On account of the injury.” 

“The deployment was to Afghanistan?” 

“Yes. There’s still a bit of conflict going on.” 

“What did you do there?” 

“I flew helicopters.” 

“And you’re applying to… be an editor?” 

“I have a degree in English language from Virginia Tech.” 

“How far is that from here?” he asked. 

“About an eight hour drive.” 

“And why Virginia Tech?” 

“Senior Military College,” she told him. “One of the best Army ROTC programs in the nation.” 

“Fair enough,” Jughead noted, looking through her application. “You wrote for your high school newspaper and one at college?” 

“Are you going to keep asking me redundant questions about my resume?” Betty snapped. 

Jughead shut his mouth, reviewing all of the other items on the sheet of paper. 

He reached one line and Betty watched his eyes dart over the words in front of him a few times before he looked up in awe. She knew exactly what he was reading and she hoped that he wouldn’t say the words. 

“Military Order of the Purple Heart,” he said. 

Images flashed through her head in rapid succession. 

Red hair. 

_We’re going down. I repeat, we’re going down._

Impact. 

Trying and failing to move. 

Then nothing. 

Waking up in a hospital. 

“Elizabeth?” Jughead asked cautiously. Betty snapped out of her trance. “Are you okay? You look a little pale.” 

“Fine,” she said shortly, clearing her throat. “Yes, I have the Purple Heart.” 

“Thank you for your service,” he supplied. 

Betty just nodded. It had always been an awkward statement to respond to. 

“It’s Betty, actually,” she corrected. “You can call me Betty.” 

“No problem.” He kept reviewing her resume for a while before speaking again. “Alright. You’re hired.” 

“Really?” she asked, not having expected to actually get the job. “But I’m not exactly qualified.” 

“You were recommended by Veronica,” he told her simply, putting her resume down. “Honestly, the interview part is just a formality. I really need an editor and I’m sure you’ve got the skills if Veronica recommended you. You could also write sometimes if you’d like and if I’ve got the space.”

“I don’t write… anymore,” Betty replied. “I’ll edit, but I won't write.” 

“That’s fine too,” Jughead said. “You start tomorrow.” 

**\---**

Betty was less than dreading going into work the next day. Veronica had to peel Franklin away from her just to get her to leave. 

Franklin was Veronica and Reggie’s three year-old, energetic son. Above all, her “little Frankie” loved having his Aunt Betty around and they were like best friends. The boy had easily filled a void in Betty’s life that had been left only six months previously, which explained why she was so attached to him. Veronica handed Franklin off to Reggie before looking back at her best friend. 

“He’s with his dad, alright?” Veronica told her. “Franklin will be fine. Let’s get you to work.” 

“In all seriousness, do I _really_ have to?” 

“Why do you feel the need to be so stubborn about this?” she asked. “I’m trying to help you move on with your life.” 

“Well _maybe,_ V, I’m not _ready_ to move on from the Army,” Betty replied. Veronica sighed and sat down next to her best friend, taking the blonde’s hands in her own. 

“It’s not just the Army you’re not ready to move on from, B,” she said. “I know it’s hard, and I know that I’ll never quite understand exactly what you’ve been going through these past six months… but life moves on one step at a time and I want you to be able to heal mentally and emotionally.” 

“Who says I haven’t healed?” 

“And that’s another thing,” Veronica added. “The deflection. I can see the pain in your eyes, Betty.” 

“I used to run two miles like it was _nothing,_ V,” Betty said shortly. “I maxed PT tests. I maxed the _male_ standards on PT tests… I used to fly _helicopters._ Now I have to put a leg on when I wake up in the morning. And I have to use this janky cane to get everywhere.” 

“The doctor said that you should eventually be able to walk without it, but you won’t ever be able to walk without it if you _try_ to walk without it.” 

“You know why people in the Army don’t like doctors, V?” 

“No?” 

“They’re buzzkills and they stop people from going to PT in the mornings,” Betty replied, picking up her cane and using it to help herself off of the couch. “Let’s just get this crap over with so I can come back and watch cartoons with Franklin.” 

“I mean, that attitude’s a little better,” Veronica said, following behind her best friend. 

“Don’t push it, V.” 

**\---**

Veronica gave Betty a ride to the _Riverdale Register,_ where she found Jughead waiting for her. Before he showed her to her desk, Jughead introduced her to Toni - the _Register’s_ photographer. She had been in the room while she interviewed with Jughead, but Betty had yet to meet her. Toni was nice and welcoming. She seemed to have a bit of sardonic humor as well, which she appreciated. 

Betty’s desk was rather close to Jughead’s - it had been her father’s when she was younger. 

The Cooper family used to own the _Riverdale Register_ and Betty could remember times, especially during the summer, when she and her sister would spend days in the office because they didn’t have anything else to do. 

All of that had changed after she had commissioned into the Army at 21 as a Second Lieutenant. A year after her commissioning everything had gone haywire and from what Betty could tell Jughead had ended up with the paper, and the building, in his hands. 

She wasn’t upset in the slightest that the _Register_ was under new management - a nostalgic part of her was just happy that the paper lived on, even after her family had to give it up. 

By the time she sat down and propped her cane up against a nearby wall, Jughead already had some work for her to do. Betty found it comforting to be doing things that required a good amount of attention to detail (as it was pushed and pushed in the Army, especially among those with Officer ranks). 

She remembered the harsh uniform inspections she would give every morning to the company she commanded, making sure that the standard was upheld to the highest degree. That ethos had trickled down from her position as Company Commander all the way down the chain of command to even the newest Private. Her company had often set the example in the battalion, and Betty had always been unashamed in the pride she showed in that. 

While she preferred to be lifting off in a helicopter, editing articles for her family’s former business was close enough in some odd way. 

Betty pulled out a new set of red pens from her purse and placed all ten of them in the pen cup on the far edge of her desk. She took one and uncapped it, beginning to look at the printed pages in front of her. 

If there was anything CPT Cooper had been known for in the Army, it was how meticulous she was. Her attention to detail in everything she did gained her praise from higher up her chain of command. Betty’s ability to be thorough and swift was what got her to two promotions nearly back to back - first from Second Lieutenant to First Lieutenant with a new position as the Executive Officer of her company, and then from First Lieutenant to Captain and a promotion to Company Commander. 

She was respected and looked up to by her Soldiers, and often seen as a good mentor. Her letters of recommendation gave her subordinates a leg up in the race for positions. Betty could argue that her letters of recommendation would likely _still_ have the same effect, even after being honorably discharged. 

Being discharged wasn’t what had wrecked her life. It was _why_ she was discharged that brought her life crashing down. 

Literally. 

For only half a second, her attention had faltered and that had devastating consequences. 

Betty Cooper was _lucky_ to be sitting behind a desk in a newspaper office. 

**\---**

Jughead’s writing was _good,_ Betty discovered after a while. He had a way with words that was extraordinary, even though there had been a few phrases that she was a bit nitpicky about. He had way too many commas and semicolons that she had scratched out all over his articles. Jughead had looked a little less than pleased with finding so many errors in his own writing, but he seemed to take it in stride and shrug it off. 

There was one particular article that was sent in by a resident of Riverdale, used to fill empty space in the newspaper. It was taking a bit of elbow grease, but she was fixing all of their mistakes when Jughead came over. 

“Hey, Jughead,” she greeted, not looking up from her work. 

“I was wondering if you want to get lunch,” he said. Betty looked up then, seeing him scratching the back of his neck nervously. “Not, like, in a weird way. I just don’t like going alone and Toni’s out for the rest of the afternoon.” She glanced over at the empty desk across the room, not having noticed that the photographer had left. 

“Uh… sure. Where to?” Betty asked. 

“I was thinking Pop’s.” 

“Always a good choice,” she agreed, finally putting down her pen and picking up her cane. Betty stood up, hobbling around the desk and following Jughead out of the building. He motioned to his small silver car and Betty sighed in relief at not having to walk all the way to Pop’s and back. She got in the passenger seat, making sure to buckle up. Jughead followed her lead and started the car. 

The drive was quiet, but Jughead eventually turned on the radio. 

It was an older song that she recognized.

_Here Comes the Sun - the Beatles._

It was one of the songs that she had on a record player long ago. 

She imagined herself twenty years earlier, laying on the floor hand-in-hand with her red-haired best friend and listening to his record player. The smiles on their eight year-old faces were so juvenile, pure, and innocent. 

_How had it come to this?_

_MAYDAY, MAYDAY. We’re going down, I repeat we’re going down._

Betty reached over and changed the radio station, alarming Jughead. 

“Not a fan of the Beatles?” he asked. 

“Not anymore,” she muttered, wiping her eye. 

**\---**

Lunch wasn’t too special. Betty was glad Jughead hadn't gotten too weird about her changing the radio station on the way over. He instead asked her about literature, knowing she had an English degree. They had a lively conversation about a few titles that they had both read in college. Film came up as well and they discovered that they were both into the same types of movies for the most part. 

They talked and got to know each other over burgers and milkshakes. Jughead ended up stealing a few of Betty’s fries with her permission, too. Conversation flowed easily… until… 

“So you went to Riverdale High?” He asked. 

“Yeah. I went with Veronica, worked the newspaper, ran track.” 

“I went to Southside High, but the paper was crummy so I had to revamp the entire program,” he told her. “I wish I could say that the football was better too, but you guys beat us every year.” 

Betty remembered the football team and the Friday nights she spent in the home section of the football stands. She would come to the games for her two best friends, who happened to be a couple at the time. Veronica cheered while her boyfriend (and Betty’s childhood best friend) played as the quarterback on the varsity team. After it was over they’d always go for milkshakes and burgers at Pop’s and they always let Betty third wheel even though it never felt like she was third wheeling. 

Betty smiled at the memory of her two best friends sitting across from her in their booth, arms slung around shoulders and grins painted on their faces. 

They were all so innocent, smiling and laughing - unaware of the tragedy that would take place not ten years later. 

“Betty?” Jughead asked. “You’re spacing out on me again.” 

“Sorry,” she said. “Just caught up in my memories for a minute there.” 

“Good memories?” 

“Yeah,” she sighed, picturing her best friends in a booth to her right in all of their innocent glory. “Good memories.” 

**\---**

Working at the _Register_ was peaceful most days. As it warmed up into spring, she continued to wear pants. Betty and Jughead found a comfortable rhythm together and a nice camaraderie in the office. She’d say something cynical and he’d counter it with something either equally as cynical or a bit more positive. He handed her articles that needed editing and she busted her ass with her red pens while Toni was usually out photographing things for the paper. There were sometimes visitors (usually guest column writers) that stopped in to drop off articles, but Betty mostly ignored them and kept working. 

It had been nearly two weeks of working at the _Riverdale Register_ when a visitor _did_ catch Betty’s eye. The bell over the door rang when they walked through, but Betty didn’t even look up at them. 

“Mrs. Andrews,” Jughead greeted. Betty’s eyes widened and she raised her head enough to glance at the red-headed woman standing in front of Jughead’s desk. She wanted to remain inconspicuous, so she tried to stay focused on her work. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“Just getting around, Jug. You know me,” she replied. “How is everything?” 

“We finally got that editor we were looking for,” Jughead said. 

_Please don’t. Please don’t. Please--_

“Anyone I know?” Mrs. Andrews asked. 

_Fuck._

“Maybe,” he replied just before turning towards her. Betty swore under her breath. “Hey, Betty. This is Mrs. Mary Andrews.” 

She looked up slowly, knowing the horror she was about to see on Mrs. Andrews’ face. Jughead was smiling innocently, not knowing exactly what demons he had unleashed. When her eyes locked with Mrs. Andrews’, her jaw dropped open. Betty didn’t know what to say. 

“We’ve met,” she told Jughead softly, just loud enough for him to hear and without taking her eyes off of Mrs. Andrews. Betty unconsciously stood up, using her cane for support. Jughead seemed confused, looking between the two women. Mrs. Andrews just looked angry. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Andrews,” Betty said. “I… I really am.” 

Mary simply turned to Jughead. “Call me back when _she’s_ not here.” She turned on her heel, retreating through the _Register’s_ door. 

Before Betty knew what she was doing, she began limping in as large strides as her legs could handle. She was out the front door as Jughead tried to ask her what was going on, but she ignored him. Betty could tell he was about to chase after them both, but she didn’t care. 

“Mrs. Andrews!” she called, trying to move quicker, even with her bad leg. “Please, Mrs. Andrews! I’m sorry!” 

The woman darted around the corner, wiping tears from her face. Betty tried to run after her, ditching the cane as Jughead called her name. 

She only got a few steps before she stumbled and fell, eating shit on the concrete sidewalk. 

“Mrs. Andrews!” Betty cried, tears beginning to run down her face. “I’m sorry,” she muttered again, collapsing on the sidewalk. “I’m sorry,” she kept repeating in tears, even as Jughead came to kneel beside her. 

Jughead didn’t know what to say to her, as he was evidently still confused, but he tried to console her as best he could. He left for only a moment once most of her tears had dried to get her cane from off the ground and bring it back. 

“Let’s get you inside, Betty,” he said softly. Betty nodded, realizing she was still on the sidewalk, face down. “I’ll make you some tea and I’ll call Veronica--” 

“Don’t call her,” Betty muttered. “Please don’t.” 

“Alright… but we should still get back to the office.” 

She nodded again, allowing Jughead to help her onto her feet shakily. He helped her keep her balance, gave back her cane, and supported her all the way back inside until she was sitting in her desk chair again. 

Jughead had eventually scrounged up a fleece blanket and let her wrap it around her shoulders while he made her tea. She was staring blankly into space, exhausted while her head was filled with thoughts… mostly bad memories. 

_MAYDAY._ _MAYDAY._

_Cooper, what’s going on? What happened?_

_There’s something wrong with the chopper!_

_BETTY, PULL UP! PULL UP!_

_ARCH--_

_And then nothing. An empty void of nothing. After a few moments she blinked her eyes open, seeing bodies around her as she failed to move too far._

“Betty?” Jughead asked, pulling her out of her thoughts. He was kneeling at her level, with a mug of steaming tea in his hands. She locked her eyes on his, her head turning slowly to look at him. He held the mug towards her and she took it, bringing it closer to her chest. 

“Thank you,” she said, barely audible. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” she deflected. 

“I hate to say it, Betty, but people that are “fine” don’t chase after someone and fall to the ground,” he replied. 

“I didn’t know you knew Mrs. Andrews.” 

“Of course I do,” he said. “I went to summer camp with her son every year.” 

Betty remembered the summer camps her ginger best friend used to go to, where he camped in the woods for two weeks and did all sorts of awesome stuff. It was boys only, so he begrudgingly went without her each year. 

“He was my best friend,” Betty whispered brokenly, refraining from saying much more. “I couldn’t go to the funeral.” 

“I’m sorry. That must have been hard,” he replied. 

“You have no idea.” 

Across the room, on the floor she saw herself, giving a redheaded male chest compressions… and nothing below her right knee. 

**\---**

When Betty got back to Veronica and Reggie’s penthouse that evening, she scooped Franklin up into her lap and hugged him tight as he watched cartoons on the TV, leaving her cane on the floor haphazardly. She closed her eyes and focused on the toddler’s laughter and warmth. When he got bored with the TV, Franklin managed to flip around to hug her back, resting his head against her shoulder. 

“I love you, Auntie Betty,” Franklin said, cupping his hand near her ear to whisper the words. “I’m happy you live with us.” 

A hot tear rolled down her cheek as she closed her eyes, hugging her best friend’s son even closer. 

“Happy to be here,” she replied even softer, letting the silent tears roll down her face. 

**\---**

“I’M NOT SOME PORCELAIN DOLL, JUGHEAD,” Betty shouted, standing up abruptly and grabbing her cane. 

For three days after Mrs. Andrews had showed up at the _Register,_ Betty noticed how Jughead was almost protective of her at work. She didn’t like being babied by anyone - she didn’t want his help. She didn’t _need_ it. 

He had accidentally tripped and fallen, making a very loud noise that startled Betty and had her hiding under her desk. 

“I’m just trying to make sure my editor doesn’t--” 

“Leave me alone!” 

_She remembered the way that people had crowded around her when she came to in the hospital six months earlier. There was a ringing in her ears that drowned out everyone, but she could see their lips move._

_As it slowly faded, all that was on her mind was her team and the crash._

_Doctors ran into the room, pushing Reggie, Veronica, Franklin, and a few others away so they could reach her._

_“Archie?” she asked. “Where’s Archie?”_

_The doctors didn’t reply but Betty glanced over at her best friend with tears in her eyes._

_“Where’s Archie?!” she asked louder. “Where is he?!”_

_Veronica gave Franklin to Reggie, shoving her way through the doctors so that she could hold her best friend’s hand._

_“Betty, I’m so sorry,” she cried, tears running down her face. “I’m so, so sorry.”_

_The doctors tried to descend on her again._

_“LEAVE ME ALONE!” she screamed, trying to push them away. “Tell them to leave me alone, Veronica!”_

_“Can we have a few minutes first?” she asked the head doctor. He nodded, getting his team out of the room. Veronica turned back to Betty. “B, please calm down.”_

_“I can’t calm down until I know where the rest of my team is and where Archie is. Where he_ ** _really_** _is, V.”_

_“I already told you, Betty,” she replied. “He’s gone. They heard you on the radio trying to give him chest compressions but… he just didn’t make it.”_

_“What about the rest of them? Smith? Anderson? Stephens?”_

_“They didn’t make it either, Betty,” Veronica continued, shooing Reggie and Franklin out of the room with the wave of her hand. “But… there’s something else.”_

_“What could possibly make this worse than it already--?”_

_Veronica interrupted her by pulling back the blankets and exposing Betty’s legs to her. Her left was bruised and scraped up but mostly okay. The right one…_

_“They couldn’t save your knee, B,” Veronica whispered, reading her mind. “You were in a coma for a week and they brought you back to the States, along with the rest of your team.”_

_Betty stared off into the distance, barely comprehending what her best friend was saying._

_“Elaine Smith, Joseph Anderson, and Mark Stephens have all returned home to be buried in a few days.”_

_“And Archie?” Betty asked, turning her head to meet Veronica’s eyes._

_“His service and burial were yesterday.”_

“I’m sorry, Betty, I just--” 

“No! Leave me alone!” she shouted, coming back into the present. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered from behind her, returning to his desk while she retreated into the bathroom. 

Betty took a few moments to herself, letting herself _just breathe_ like her therapist told her to (she didn’t really like having a therapist or going to therapy but she had to admit that a few good things had come from it). She tried to let it all roll off her shoulders, even though most of it was hard to let go of. 

Her therapist had once said she had _PTSD_ due to several traumatic events over the course of her life, but Betty never wanted to accept that something was wrong. She often tried to deflect or bury her feelings so deep that she couldn’t find them even if she wanted to. Pretending that things were normal felt much easier than facing her emotions head-on. 

Nothing, in all honesty, was _normal_ for her anymore. She had traded her combat boots and dress uniforms for an 8 to 5 job, the barracks for the comfort of the Lodge-Mantle penthouse, and her leg… for a cane and a prosthetic. 

Having to put on her own leg in the morning was something that angered her. It made her heart drop in her chest when she looked over at it when she wasn’t wearing it. 

She felt guilty for surviving. 

A few minutes later, Betty emerged from the bathroom, finding Jughead minding his own business… and a steaming mug of tea on her desk. 

**\---**

It became difficult to keep trying to push Jughead away. He was so kind and understanding. He made her laugh in a way she hadn’t during the past seven months. Going to work wasn’t a chore. 

Ever so slowly, she started letting down her walls, just brick by brick. 

When they had nothing to do, they’d watch movies on his laptop or listen to music. 

(He once got Betty to dance with him, though she would never admit that to anyone.) 

They got lunch together most days and he snickered at the sarcastic comments she made under her breath. 

When she was with him, a lot of the world fell away. Her heavy thoughts were mostly stored away for later. She still had her worse, days of course, and he gave her space when she asked him to (and on those days, he’d make her a cup of tea and leave it on her desk when she wasn’t looking). 

Betty felt like she was finally breaking through the fog hanging over her head whenever she was at work. As soon as she got home, the fog caught up with her again and any hope of finding the light at the end of the tunnel faded quickly. 

The back and forth angered her, the way she could so easily go from grieving her best friend and the rest of their team to laughing at Jughead’s funny stories and living her life. 

Why was it fair that she scraped out alive when the rest of her team was lying in their graves in their respective hometowns? It felt so wrong. 

It felt like she was betraying them, and it felt so bittersweet for her to be able to heal from her injuries and just clear her mind of everything pressing. 

“I’m going for a walk,” Betty told Jughead one day, getting up from her desk with the help of her cane. “I’ll be back in an hour.” 

“Everything alright?” he asked. 

“I just… need to clear my head.” 

She left through the front door, knowing exactly where she was going. The brisk spring air felt nice as she walked down the street, giving her some peace of mind. Downtown Riverdale had always been pretty calm, as it was a small town that never had much going on. After about fifteen minutes, she finally made it to where she was trying to go - the Riverdale Cemetery. 

Under the shade of an oak tree was Archie’s headstone, stamped with his name. As Betty passed a bush with a pink rose on it, she plucked the flower carefully and kept walking. She stood in front of her best friend’s grave for a minute before lowering herself to the ground with her cane. 

Betty sat next to Archie’s headstone, picking off bits of tree debris and throwing them behind her. She placed the rose up against the headstone, right next to where his dog tags had been placed. Betty clutched her own from over her shirt as she brushed a leaf off of the top of his headstone. 

She hadn’t ever visited his grave before, so she was surprised at how quick she had found his headstone. She’d been in a coma and without half her right leg the day of his funeral and internment. 

Betty didn’t know quite what made her want to finally visit him seven and a half months later, but it felt like something she needed to do. Barely audible, she began a conversation with her best friend. 

Her therapist had encouraged journaling, encouraged visiting him once she was ready… but she never knew the right words. 

Betty had been one of the best writers when she was working at her high school newspaper. Even _she_ couldn’t scrounge up the words to put in her own journal. She didn’t know quite what to say as she was sitting in front of him, but she began by apologizing. 

Dr. Glass had told her time and time again that what happened wasn’t her fault. The crash wasn’t her fault, the coma wasn’t her fault, the loss of half of her leg wasn’t her fault, not being at her best friend’s funeral wasn’t her fault. In reality, it all felt like a lie… like Dr. Glass was just trying to put a bandaid over a hemorrhaging wound that needed a tourniquet. 

The nightmares didn’t help. Nearly every time she closed her eyes at night, she had blood coating her hands and her best friend was lying lifeless in front of her. The rest of their team was there too, blaming her for losing control. Her mistakes haunted her, they were wounds that couldn’t be mended easily. 

“Betty?” 

Her head whipped around so fast that she almost fell over. Six feet behind her was Jughead, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a small bouquet of white daisies. He pulled his hand out of his pocket and snatched the grey beanie off his head respectfully. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” she asked, wiping her face and reddened eyes with the back of her wrist. “Did you _follow_ me?” 

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he replied. 

“I don’t need you making sure I’m okay,” she told him coldly, picking up her cane to stand up. “I’m _fine.”_

“But… you’re not.” 

“I _am,_ Jughead,” she said. 

“People that are “fine” don’t go to cemeteries during their break from work,” he stated, taking a few steps closer. “I can assure you that any human being you come across doesn’t have it all sorted out. You see my flaws on _paper_ every day at work, but those are the least of my problems.” 

“What are you suggesting? I have problems?” 

“Don’t we all?” he countered. “I’m afraid to drink because my dad drank himself dead. I watch you struggle to live with yourself after whatever it is you’ve been through--” 

“I’m not your _problem,”_ she spat. 

“You’re not, you’re right,” he replied. “The problem is that I can’t help but want to take away the pain in your eyes.” 

“You don’t fucking know me, Jughead,” she said angrily. “You don’t know the weight I carry on my shoulders! The blood on my hands!” 

“And I don’t but--” 

“You don’t know the shit I’ve been through!” she shouted, starting to lose control. “Do you even know why I walk around with this goddamn cane? Why Mrs. Andrews hates me?” 

Jughead’s jaw fell open. 

“For fuck’s sake, I was flying the helicopter Archie died in!” Betty screamed, her face turning red with frustration. “I was the only one that survived, and I couldn’t save him!” 

He reached out to stop her, his eyes beginning to gloss over, but he retracted it quickly. Tears flooded Betty’s face, running down and falling to the ground from her jaw. The whites of her eyes were pink from crying, the skin around them rubbed red. 

“What do you mean you couldn’t save him?” Jughead asked, stunned. 

“By the time I got to give him CPR, he was gone,” she sobbed. “I tried and I tried, but I couldn’t bring him back.” 

“H-He was my best friend,” Betty cried, turning towards his grave again. “He was my best friend and I killed him.” 

“I’m sure it’s not--” 

“Don’t _fucking_ say it’s not my fault,” she interrupted, not even bothering to look at him. “I was the pilot, he was under my command, I lost focus… and there was a malfunction.” Her voice began to waver, tears running down her face faster. “I could’ve prevented it, but I was distracted… and we went down.” 

Jughead wordlessly came to stand next to her, looking down at Archie’s headstone. 

“When I came to, he and the three others on our team were dead, all because of me,” she said softer. “They gave me a Purple Heart but it just mocks my existence. I don’t deserve shit.” 

“What was the malfunction?” Jughead asked. 

“I don’t know. It all happened so fast,” she replied. “But I could have kept us alive had I been paying full attention to what was going on.” 

He nodded in response, finally looking over at her. 

“I got these for you, actually,” he whispered, holding out the bouquet of daisies. Betty turned her head to face him. “I figured you were coming over here and would want something to give him.” 

Betty sniffled, slowly taking the daisies from Jughead. She hobbled forward, placing the daisies on the other side of Archie’s dog tags. Before stepping back, Betty removed her own dog tags and placed them next to his. 

She turned around, only glancing up for a moment. Jughead had his arms open for her and she walked right into them, letting her cane fall to the ground as she hugged him tight. 

He managed to pry the sobs out of her, just with his warm embrace. 

**\---**

They stood in the cemetery for a long time, Jughead doing his best to comfort Betty. 

Out of nowhere it began to rain buckets, even through the oak tree they were standing under. They looked up to find themselves quickly becoming soaked. 

Betty quickly remembered her prosthetic and how it didn’t work well in the rain. 

“We need to get out of here,” she told him, picking up her cane quickly. 

“Back to the office?” he asked. 

“It’s too far,” she replied. 

“My place isn’t too far,” Jughead added. “I-If you don’t mind, of course. It’s almost quitting time anyways.” 

“I need to get out of the rain,” she replied. “Let’s go to yours, I guess.” 

Jughead clasped his hand in hers, evidently trying to get her out of the rain as soon as possible. His long legs were moving too fast for her. She was having trouble keeping up so much that it was almost painful. 

“Jug. Jug, wait,” she panted. He stopped in his tracks. “I can’t go that fast.” 

“Do you mind?” Jughead asked after a moment of contemplation. 

“Mind… what?” 

Before she could reply he scooped her into his arms, taking her cane and laying it across her body. They were both drenched in the rain, water running through their soaked hair and down their faces. 

“Is this okay?” he asked. 

“Sure, I guess,” she replied. “Just… go.” 

“Right, right. Hold on tight.” 

He started running through the rain as Betty held around the back of his neck for dear life. After a few minutes of running through the downpour, he finally made it to his apartment complex, stopping under the minimal amount of cover and digging out his key. Even after getting inside the warm building, he carried her up to the second floor and into his apartment. 

Jughead quickly sat her in an armchair in front of his TV, making sure she was okay. They were both soaked and shivering from the cold rain. 

“I’ll get us towels… and a change of clothes, perhaps?” he asked. 

Jughead was so close, so gentle, so kind. Even though they were both shivering, she could feel the warmth coming off of him. The blue of his eyes was captivating, bright. She searched his face, her arms still draped over his shoulders. He paused for a moment, searching hers too. Her palm slid back, cupping the back of his wet head of hair. 

Before Betty knew what she was doing, she pushed herself towards him, pressing her lips to his. He cupped her cheek in one hand, pulling her closer. Betty’s arms laced around the back of his neck and he lifted her out of the chair. Her legs wrapped around his waist as they kissed and he held her in his arms. 

They pulled away a few moments later, breathless. 

“A-Are you okay?” he asked tentatively. 

“I don’t think I’ve been better than I am now,” she whispered, looking in his eyes. “Just… don’t stop.” 

“Okay,” he breathed, kissing her again. 

They somehow made it into Jughead’s bedroom while making out softly and without running into any walls or doors. He sat her on the side of the bed, hands cupping faces and kissing deeply, slowly. They pulled away another moment later, stars in their eyes as they gazed at each other in awe. 

“I’ll… go get a condom,” he whispered. 

“Yeah,” she breathed, biting her lip. He walked away with a kiss to her forehead. 

Betty started undressing, pulling off her soaked shirt and letting it _plop_ on the floor. She shimmied out of her jeans slowly, as they were sticking to her legs. Once she got them halfway down her thighs, Betty paused and looked up at Jughead. He’d taken off his shirt, displaying his lean torso spotted with freckles, and in his hand was a small plastic wrapper. Jughead was watching her, and Betty could feel tears welling in her eyes as she continued to push her jeans down. 

She watched his face as she revealed her prosthetic to him, the synthetic joint contrasting with her left knee. 

“And now you know,” she muttered, continuing to evaluate his expressions while a few tears ran down her face. “They had to amputate my knee,” Betty admitted softly. “They couldn’t save it.” 

Jughead knelt to the ground in front of her, pulling her jeans all the way off and peeling her wet socks from her feet. 

“Would you like me to take it off?” he asked gently, looking up at her. She found no judgement in his eyes, only compassion. Betty nodded, taking his hands and guiding them in slowly removing the prosthetic. Jughead took off the sleeve underneath as well, letting it fall to the floor with the rest of their soaked clothes. 

Betty watched him curiously as his fingers danced over the scars from the amputation surgery. Her head tilted and his eyes ran over the angry scars. She had always hated looking at them, as they were a reminder of everything she had lost in one moment of unfocused piloting. As she watched Jughead, she saw him leaning down to one of the larger scars. He pressed a soft kiss to the spot before looking up at her. 

“You’re so resilient, Betty Cooper,” Jughead breathed. 

Instead of responding, she pulled him up by his shoulders just far enough so she could place her lips on his again. Eventually they shed the rest of their clothes and shuffled so that Betty was on her back with Jughead hovering over her, his sheets tangled around them. She helped him into the condom as he kissed her neck softly, stopping to nip at her collarbones. 

“Go slow, okay?” she whispered, running her hands through his damp, dark hair. Jughead kissed her jaw tenderly. “I’m a bit rusty.” 

“Of course,” he said, sliding into her slowly. “You set the pace.” 

She nearly got goosebumps when he said that, loving the way his warm palms felt on her skin. Betty pulled Jughead down to kiss him again and he began to move slowly. 

Nirvana came easily, clearing Betty’s mind and making her feel like she was floating. Jughead collapsed beside her and pulled her close, letting her tuck her face into his chest and fall asleep. 

She held on for dear life, afraid the moment would end too soon. 

It was the best sleep she’d gotten in months. 

**\---**

Betty woke to Jughead stroking her head a while later. His movements were soothing and gentle, making her feel protected and safe. His caring nature and soft touches reduced her to tears. 

She didn’t know why she was crying this time. It had been so long since she had felt secure, or simply whole. Realistically, she knew she’d never be able to go back to being “the old Betty.” She couldn’t go back to the Army, she couldn’t get Archie back, and she couldn’t get her leg back. The old Betty died in the helicopter crash in Afghanistan, commemorated by the Purple Heart she had to her name. 

It was the closest Betty had felt to peace of mind before everything crashed back into her again. So, yeah, she cried. She cried because Jughead held her close, because she wished she didn’t have so many feelings and traumas. 

Jughead didn’t say anything as he continued to hold her close. 

Just as easy as that Betty didn’t want to lose Jughead, either. 

**\---**

The tears faded eventually and Jughead found a pair of warm, comfortable pajama pants and a soft shirt for her to wear. He got dressed in a similar fashion, finding a sweatshirt he’d grown out of for Betty to wear as well. They stayed under the covers together, keeping each other warm and comfortable. 

Jughead had to get up to grab Betty’s phone so that she could let Veronica know where she was (“Be safe,” she replied with a winking emoji that Betty rolled her eyes at). Later Jughead carried Betty into his living room with warm cups of cocoa and Netflix playing on the TV. She had ended up in his lap so she could stay close to him. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked softly, a hand on her left thigh. 

“I’m okay,” she said, smiling a little. “Yeah… here, right now… I feel good.” 

Her prosthetic and cane were still in Jughead’s room, out of sight and out of mind. 

“That makes me happy,” he replied softly, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “I like it when you smile.” 

She preferred smiling, too. 

**\---**

Even with Jughead being a large light in her life, Betty still had bad days. He wasn’t a dressing for a wound. His presence didn’t “fix” her, but she had to admit that he made the bright times a little brighter. 

Jughead was around when Betty needed him, and scarce if she wanted him to leave her alone. It was evident he knew that Betty was her own person, that she was capable of handling things by herself. When she asked for space, he gave it to her but let her know he was there if she needed him via a cup of hot tea that magically appeared on her desk. 

Sometimes she did need a hug, either while she needed a moment or after Jughead had given her space. There had been one occasion where she needed him to distract her and so he put on some music and started to dance… badly. She laughed so hard that she was close to rolling on the floor, arms crossed over her abdomen. He got her to get up and dance with him, ditching her cane to use him for support instead. 

Jughead held her close when the song changed to a slower one, their foreheads resting against each other as they began swaying to the beat. Betty closed her eyes, soaking in the feeling. She was so close to pressing her lips to his when she wrapped her arms around the back of his neck. 

All of that was disturbed when the bell on the door rang, making Betty and Jughead jump apart. Without looking at the door, Betty used the desk to get back around to her seat, falling into it unceremoniously and finding her cane on the floor. Only when she looked up again did she realize who it was. 

“I can’t believe you, Jughead,” Mrs. Andrews said sternly. “I come here to tell off your precious _editor_ for leaving her dog tags at my son’s grave and I find you _dancing_ with her.” 

“I don’t think it’s as simple as you imagine, M--” 

“I think it is,” she interrupted. “My son is dead and buried and here you are, dancing with the woman that killed him.” 

“It wasn’t her fault,” Jughead countered. 

“But it was,” Betty spoke up, tears in her eyes. Both of them looked at her. “I was teasing him in front of the rest of the team.” 

_“I’ve known Andrews since we were in diapers,” she said, eyes ahead and focused. “I’ve been around for nearly every stupid idea he had on his bike and every single time he scraped his knee.”_

_“Aw, knock it off, Cooper,” he replied._

_“He dated my best friend in high school,” Betty continued, ignoring him. “And he was the best quarterback in the state of New York.”_

_“Seriously Betty, come on.”_

_“You should’ve seen the lengths he went to in order to try and impress her,” she teased._

_Archie poked her shoulder and she took one hand off the controls to swat at him. He kept doing it._

_“Archie, stop.”_

_“Not until you apologize.” He kept poking._

_“Seriously, Arch. I need to fly this th--”_

_A malfunction warning appeared on the screen in front of Betty, making Archie stop. They began losing altitude… fast._

_“MAYDAY. MAYDAY,” Betty shouted into her headset. “We have a 10-23, I repeat, a 10-23.”_

_“Cooper, what’s going on? What happened?” one of their teammates asked._

_“There’s something wrong with the chopper! No time for a safe landing!” She told the crew. “We’re going down. I repeat, we’re going down.”_

_“Betty, PULL UP! PULL UP!” Archie yelled, holding onto whatever he could. She tried, but they just kept falling._

_“ARCH--!”_

_They crashed into a mountain. Betty had been stuck under a large sheet of metal once they hit the ground, but it had protected her from other falling and flying debris. As she came to find later, that same sheet of metal was what cut off everything below her knee._

_When she came to, everything had stilled. She had a hard time doing it, but she crawled out from underneath the sheet of metal to see the largest chunk of the helicopter on fire and her teammates sprawled out on the ground._

_Betty spotted Archie, who was closest, and crawled as quick as she could so she was next to him. He had no pulse, so she began chest compressions._

_She kept pumping and pumping and giving him rescue breaths but nothing was working. He wasn’t waking up and he wasn’t breathing. Betty began to feel lightheaded and before she knew it, she fell. She looked behind her, only able to see for a moment that nearly half of her right leg was gone._

_When MedEvac found them not long after, she was draped over Archie’s stilled chest and bleeding out with the faintest of pulses._

“There was a malfunction in the engine,” Betty continued softly, tears welling in her eyes. “If we hadn’t been distracted, I could have landed us safely.” 

Mrs. Andrews was staring at her wordlessly. 

“Once we had crashed I did CPR on Archie… but I was too late,” she said. “I kept going and going until I couldn’t anymore and I passed out from blood loss.” 

“Blood loss?” Mrs. Andrews asked. 

With a deep breath, Betty rolled up her pants to her thigh, removing her prosthetic and placing it on top of her desk with a loud _bang_ for the woman to see. 

“I lost half of my leg in the crash, and they couldn’t save my knee,” Betty explained as Mrs. Andrews stared at the hunk of metal and plastic. “I have my own reminder of my guilt that I have to look at _every single day,_ but I’ll be damned if I let you scream at me for it too because I’m already so _fucking_ mad at myself.” She paused for a moment, letting her tears run down her face. “It should have been me.” 

There was a silent pause. 

“I’ve tried joining him, thought about it,” she admitted. “I wish I could get rid of all the guilt I feel, but it’s been eight months now and it doesn’t hurt any less than ever… and my best friend stopped me every time.” 

After a few moments, the words sunk in for Mrs. Andrews _and_ Jughead. Archie’s mom started walking towards her and Betty watched her as she came around the side of her desk, laying her eyes on her residual limb. Mary reached towards Betty, helping pull her up and steadying her. 

“I’m sorry too,” she said just before pulling her son’s best friend into a hug. 

When Betty glanced up from Mrs. Andrews’ shoulder after a few seconds, she saw Jughead wiping away a tear from under his eye and nodding at her. 

After Mary left and Betty put her prosthetic back on, Jughead sat down with her, holding her hands in his. He was looking at her, but she was looking down at their joined hands. 

“Now you know,” she whispered. “You know everything… I’m sure you hate me.” 

“I could never,” he replied just as softly. “It was an accident.” 

“I guess it’s easier for you to see it that way… but for me, it’ll always be my fault,” Betty said, beginning to cry softly. He cupped her face in his hands, brushing away her tears and lifting her gaze so she was looking at him. 

“Even if you can’t forgive yourself for it, I just want you to know that I would _never_ blame you for what happened,” he told her. 

“Why?” she asked brokenly. 

“Because you’re a very special person to me, Betty Cooper,” Jughead replied. “And I would never seek to hurt you in that way.” 

Betty shuffled in close, letting Jughead wrap his arms around her and press a kiss to her hair. She buried her face in his neck once she was in his lap and he sheltered her while she sobbed quietly.

**\---**

“I can’t be fixed. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to heal fully…” Betty whispered to him as they lay in bed together months later, bare with only the sheets on his bed to cover them. “But I know that I won’t get anywhere without your bad dancing and stupid jokes.” 

Jughead huffed a laugh, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Nothing in this world is perfect, Betty,” he replied. “Things get messy, they break, they shatter and there’s nothing we can do about it but keep moving forward. Life isn’t fair, it won’t ever be fair.”

She nodded, nuzzling into his shoulder. 

“I’ve only got half a heart to give to you,” Betty added, keeping him close. “The other half is crippled with grief, but I hope it’s enough.” 

“I love you too,” he said softly, pushing a blonde curl behind her ear. “You’ll always be enough,” he continued, pressing his lips to hers. 

Jughead rolled onto his back a moment later, helping Betty climb into his lap. 

“We can’t take too long,” she pulled away to whisper. He left kisses on her neck. “We’ve got Franklin’s birthday party.” 

“He won’t mind if we’re late,” Jughead whispered, reducing his girlfriend to giggles. 

Tucked away in their newly shared closet was her cane that she had learned to walk without, Betty and Archie’s dog tags hanging off of the handle. 

Though she was healing physically, Betty would never quite recover mentally or emotionally. Over time, it became easier… but the pain never went away. 

It hurt a little less when Jughead was with her, and that made all the difference. 

The journey had been and would continue to be hard, but Betty had faith that with her therapist, with the veterans’ group he’d gotten her to join, and Veronica, Franklin, Reggie, and Jughead by her side… it could be a little easier, and much less lonely. 

**\---**

**“No one really dies if the love remains**

**Cause nothing that dies really goes away.”**

**Author's Note:**

> The quotes at the beginning and end are from Patrick Droney's "Glitter" that I listened to while writing this and I think the entire thing reads differently when you listen to it, tbh. 
> 
> I hope you liked it - leave a kudos or a comment if yeh'd like, I always love hearing from ya'll. 
> 
> Those of you that have seen CH or read OCH can see the connections I made. I really wanted to do the CH and Grace Town influence justice with this fic, so I hope it all worked out with that.


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